Cufflinks
by firesnap
Summary: After stopping the end of the world, Rhys and Jack could at least agree on one thing. Set after CoE.


Notes: This story hasn't been beta'd, as a warning. It's a scene between Jack and Rhys after the events of Children of Earth.

Rhys craned his neck to look up at the flat above him. Second floor. One light on. It was a flat Rhys had been to a handful of times before with Gwen and even been hidden there for a few days by the former occupant during a particularly unsettling week. He was alone now. He also assumed, after tonight, he'd never visit here again.

It was easy to understand why Rhys was alone, a few hours after sunset, in crisp autumn night of Cardiff. Gwen, his pregnant beautiful wife, was still in a near panic inducing mix of grief and anxiety. The loss of her job, her friends, her purpose, on top of feeling like the government was observing them just a bit too closely, was straining her. They'd already reached an agreement, just days before, to leave Cardiff. Rhys was frankly relieved. He'd played his part in what he thought was going to be the end of the world. He tried to save some children, tried to help stop something he still didn't quite understand, and had seen it all blow up in their faces. Rhys didn't find Torchwood nearly as exciting or glamorous now. Now, just the word was enough to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

So Rhys got rid of their flat. Just finished the last of that business today. It went to a lovely young couple who he wished the very best. He hoped they had more happy memories there than he'd managed in the last year or so. He'd already quit Harwood's. That had happened two weeks after the departure of the 456 - when a large sum of "severance" money was deposited in Gwen's banking account. That had brought tears from Gwen. They'd both known where it came from though neither of them openly talked about it. Gwen had tried to stay in the city. She'd met with UNIT over the clearing out of the old Hub and, after scavenging for a few keepsakes, washed her hands of the whole affair. Gwen was with her mother in Swansea now, lying low and working on plans for the renovations of her grandfather's old farmhouse by the sea. They were going to get out of Cardiff while they could. They were going to leave Torchwood, conspiring governments, and graves behind them. A secret part of Rhys was just a tiny bit ecstatic to finally be getting Gwen back.

There was only one thing keeping him in Cardiff now. One thing that was making Gwen's eyes light up with false hope whenever the phone rang or whenever there was a knock on the door. Gwen wanted to know where Jack was. Gwen wanted answers. Every report or bit of second hand knowledge she'd managed to scavenge on what had happened to Jack after they'd separated had nauseated and worried her more than the morning sickness.

She'd tried every channel she could think of to find him. Rhys had watched, offering tea and sympathy and reminded her, as gently as he could, that if Jack didn't want to be found Gwen wouldn't find him.

Which is why, out of impulse, Rhys checked the place they should've looked first. Legitimately, they did look here first. Days after returning from London they'd been here. Before the funeral, then again after when Jack hadn't shown and Gwen couldn't decide between grief and anger, they'd gone here. The windows of the flat had been dark then.

Rhys sighed and scratched the back of his neck. He'd hoped, honestly, that they'd be dark tonight too. It was his last night in Cardiff for, fate be willing, quite a while. He'd wanted to slink away, go home to Gwen and a nice supper and feel the swelling of her middle section. Instead, Rhys found himself climbing a pair of worn wooden stairs to a second floor entry way and pausing to look at the flat that had been mysteriously paid up to the end of the year. Rhys stopped at the door, it was cracked open, and took a deep breath to prepare himself before entering. Everything would still be in there. Gwen had said, after they'd discovered that they were in no rush to get in there and sort things out, that Ianto's sister hadn't been ready to go through his things. Neither had Gwen. She was planning on it, whenever Rhiannon was ready, to help and make sure there was nothing hidden about that could get the older woman, or God help, her sprites into trouble. To Rhys, it made the whole place feel like a ticking dirty bomb of grief and anxiety for two women who'd already been through too much. He'd do it for them, if he could. In the end, he knew they wouldn't let him, but that didn't make the chivalrous inclinations fade.

Rhys pushed the door open and, quiet as he could, slid inside. Most of the flat was dark. The only light source Rhys could see was the overhead lamp above Ianto's- the flat's breakfast bar. There, hunched shouldered, facing away from Rhys, was Jack Harkness. His coat was off and lying on a worn looking sofa in the main area of the great room, and his shirt looked slightly wrinkled. Jack had one hand in his hair and the other going over a large array of objects that been scattered across the small bar area. There was a duffel bag at his feet.

Tentatively, Rhys took a step forward. "Jack?" Even speaking the man's name felt like breaking the silence of a tomb. By the way Jack swirled around on his stool, wide eyed and nearly unbalanced, it was clear the other man felt the same way. Jack steadied himself from falling and slowly relaxed as he took in the person in front of him. He let out a shuddery breath and his shoulders slumped.

"Rhys Williams. Not who I was expecting to run into right now."

Rhys clucked his tongue. "Who exactly were you expecting then?" He moved another step forward, and when Jack didn't dart away like a startled animal, he sat on the armrest of the recliner closest to Jack.

Jack shrugged. "No one, I suppose."

"You doing alright?"

Jack nodded.

"Gwen's been worried. You should give her a ring."

When silence was Jack's only response, Rhys couldn't help but feel a wave of frustration. He wasn't good at manly heart-to-heart chats. Not with someone who, up until fairly recently, wouldn't have ranked particularly high on his list of favorite people to begin with. "What are you doing here?"

Finally, Jack smiled. It wasn't a real one - not that movie star smile that Rhys was used to seeing. The one that could always make Gwen and Ianto give in to working late nights or dealing with some of the more ridiculous requests that came their way. This one was just a shadow, or a reactionary twist of muscles that looked like they hadn't been used in a while.

"I had some things here," Jack motioned toward the carry bag by his feet. "Shirts. Couple books. I don't have a lot left," Jack trailed off for a moment, not wanting to add the 'after the explosion' bit that they both knew. "Going traveling soon so I thought I'd pack what I did have."

"Light packer."

"I don't really keep a lot. You never know when you'll have to take off without it," Jack was toeing the bag at his feet now in a nervous gesture. "I usually like to travel with the clothes on my back and what fits in my pockets, you know?"

Rhys didn't but he smiled and nodded anyway. He didn't want to look at Jack. Not really. It was too hard at the moment. He felt bad for the man, he did, but there was still a part of him, however irrational it may be, that was just angry. On top of the normal Torchwood shit Rhys had dealt with over the years - the long hours, the worry, the jealousy - the last big adventure had been too much. Jack had put Gwen at risk, their child at risk, because of his bloody secrets and hero act. He'd made the government hunt after them, turned them into criminals, and they'd had to hide like such. He'd gotten Gwen's closest friend killed and left Rhys to pick up the pieces. He looked beyond Jack, at the shadowed kitchen where no one would sit for breakfast again or make coffee. His eyes darted quickly away from memories of himself cooking in there and focused on the pile Jack had been studying when Rhys had interrupted.

The breakfast bar was covered with a variety of objects. Rhys saw several pairs of cufflinks, two ties, photos, watches and folded letters mixed with stranger objects like a cork, keys, a few colored stones and other items that weren't easily recognized. Rhys's eyebrows knitted together. "What is all that, Jack?"

Jack seemed confused by Rhys's question at first. He followed Rhys's gaze to the table and that same shadowy smile crossed his face again. He picked up something and held it up to the overhead light. It was a cufflink, set in silver, and made with a gleaming black stone and flecks of sparkle. It looked antique and expensive. Not something Rhys remembered Ianto wearing much. "I think these were mine at some point," Jack said in a confessional tone. "I can't remember if I gave them to him or he borrowed them." Jack clenched his fist around the small bauble and squeezed it tightly before setting it back down.

"So all that's yours then?"

"No, none of it." Jack stood and moved to the other side of the bar. It seemed like a casual enough movement, made to give Jack space to look at the items they were talking about and Rhys at the same time. Rhys was far from thick. Jack was putting some distance between them. He looked like he wanted to flee the scene entirely and Rhys knew he wouldn't stop him if he tried. Probably should, but wouldn't. Jack stared down at the counter, fidgeting, while Rhys tried to come up with something to say. What could he say? Sorry your team died; sorry you killed one of the few people who put up with you; sorry the people you tried to save turned on you; sorry you apparently had a family this whole time and were still fucking with mine; sorry you destroyed them too. None of that felt adequate or appropriate.

Rhys exhaled loudly and tried to force himself into a state of calm. It wasn't working so well. "What is it then?"

"After I got packed, I wanted to take something. Something to help me remember." Jack shut his eyes and his hands splayed across the countertop, his fingertips digging into the granite surface. "I wanted a keepsake but I… don't know what to take. How do you make a memory of a person - of a whole life - pocket sized?"

Ah. That was the crux of it. Rhys stood and stretched his legs. He walked, ever so slowly to give Jack a chance to bolt, until he faced Jack with the bar between them. Near the top of the pile of photos, an image caught Rhys's eye. It was a picture of Gwen and Ianto that had a twin in his own home. Rhys pulled out the photograph to look at it better. They were outside somewhere, probably on the Plass, and pressed tightly into the frame together. Gwen was placing a kiss on Ianto's cheek in a dramatic, slightly comedic fashion that made Rhys's lips twitch upwards. Ianto was giving Gwen a slightly bemused look out of the corner of his eyes and a half smile toward the camera. They both looked young in it. Too young to be catching aliens and dying for no good reason at least.

Rhys raised an eyebrow when Jack took the photo away from him. Jack held it in the palm of his hand and let his thumb trace Ianto's mouth before moving to Gwen's hair, then her jawline and the place where her nose pressed against Ianto. "Pictures don't last very long," Jack said finally. He didn't put the photograph down though; instead he carefully folded the image up and placed it in the front pocket of his shirt. "I wanted something that'll last longer."

"What are you thinking about?"

Jack's hand paused over the table and, after another moment of thought, he scooped up another pair of cufflinks to present to Rhys. Rhys held out his hand automatically and let them fall into his cupped palm. They weren't the most expensive looking set on the table - nothing compared to the ones Jack claimed had been his. They were set in a soft gray metal, probably tungsten, and were oblong with a dark blue stone in the middle. "They're nice," Rhys commented. "Look good with your shirt."

By the way Jack's back straightened it was if Rhys's confirmation had given him some well needed courage or confidence to make his choice. "Yeah, they are," he agreed as he took them back and they too slid into a pocket. Jack looked up at Rhys and his eyes seemed a little brighter. The sadness was still there from earlier, but now his expression spoke more of being tired than anything else. "Rhys," Jack began and then stopped. It took another try before words came out. "I'm sorry. Tell her I'm sorry too. To both of you. It wasn't… things went bad."

The laughter that bubbled from Rhys felt far too large and loud for the room. "Yeah, it did go to shit for a while."

Jack chuckled too and then stopped as a broke sounding noise escaped from his throat. "It's not just him. Or Steven," Jack's voice cracked particularly hard and Rhys, who'd never heard the name before that night, figured out fairly quickly who Steven was and what stories apparently had been true. "I kill them all. My family. Anyone who gets near me. I thought I could at least keep them safe." Jack tapped his chest to indicate the photo of Gwen and Ianto hidden in his pocket. "I tried here. I did. After all those years wasted waiting and all the lives I've lived I wanted to build something here. Something beyond filling time. I thought if I could just to keep those two safe, I could have something like a family and, for once, not worry about having to leave them. I thought maybe I could forget eternity for a while and…." Jack faltered, stopped and his head drooped to his chest. "You're damn lucky she made it. I'm poison. I do this to everyone."

It still wasn't easy to look at him. In fact, it took quite a bit to not look away from Jack, but Rhys held his gaze. Jack was right. Rhys was lucky. Gwen had lived and, as horrible as it was, he wouldn't change how one thing happened if it risked her survival. Jack lifted his head and caught Rhys's stare. Those eyes seemed to be begging Rhys to contradict him, argue, say how wrong Jack was and that it wasn't his fault. Rhys licked his lips and the words didn't come at first. He thought of Gwen again. At home, worried, grief stricken and still filled with a small kernel of hope at the thought of their new family and new life together. It was a miracle in itself that the hope was there at all. He thought of Jack too and how easy it would be now to convince him to go home with Rhys, talk to Gwen and her more sympathetic ear and how she'd know the right things to say to help the man. Jack did think of Gwen and Ianto as his little family. He'd stay then, with the only family member left, and Gwen could help him.

"Then you're right. Maybe it's a good thing you're going," Rhys finally admitted quietly. "For Gwen. For all of us. She needs to be safe now."

A little of the light in Jack's eyes dimmed and it tore at Rhys. Jack's mouth narrowed into a thin, determined line. "I love her," he blurted out suddenly.

That wasn't a revelation. Rhys had known. He'd known even when Gwen doubted it. "Loved him too?"

Jack nodded slowly.

"Sometimes that's not enough." It hadn't been enough so far. Jack pushed himself off where he was leaning on the bar and quickly gathered his bag of belongings from by Rhys's feet and his coat from off the chair. He stopped as he headed toward the door.

"I'll always protect her," Jack said with a renewed voice of conviction.

"Is that what you're doing right now?"

"Yeah. I think it is." Jack turned and left the flat with such speed and flourish then that Rhys didn't have another chance at response. The door was left open and silence once again hung in the air. Rhys rubbed his face wearily with one hand while the other picked up the pair of black and silver cufflinks Jack had shown him earlier. He slipped them into his pocket, something for Gwen, and turned off the last light in Ianto Jones's flat.


End file.
